A Growing Family
by MyLittleYellowBird
Summary: Shelagh has a surprise for Patrick that will teach them that love does indeed fill in where it's needed. Even when it is never expected. A little A/U. It's nice to dream. **Series three spoilers**
1. Chapter 1: A Surprising Christmas

"Tim's finally asleep," he announced quietly as he entered their bedroom. "I'm afraid he has very high expectations this year after what happened last Christmas."

"I'm pretty sure we're ready for him, Patrick. He's going to love the bicycle."

"I hope so." Patrick rubbed his face. "Is she asleep?" he asked, looking over the side of the cradle.

"Yes. She went down almost instantly. I think we may have finally learned how to go to sleep by ourselves, haven't we?" she whispered to her daughter.

Patrick pulled his wife into his arms. "What a difference a year has made, sweetheart. I can't bear to remember Christmas Eve last year. And now, Tim's healthy, you're healthy, and we have the sweetest baby girl there ever was. I'm afraid to ask for anything else, I'd just be greedy."

"I do have a special gift for you. But I'd like to give it to you tonight, just between us."

Patrick grinned wickedly. "Sounds good to me."

"No, dear, not that sort of gift." She shook her head at him. "Why is that always your guess?"

"Wishful thinking?" he placed a kiss behind her ear, working his way down her throat.

"Patrick. Later. I want to give you your gift now. I've been waiting for days, and I can't wait any longer!"

He sat on the edge of their bed, hands outstretched. "All right, ready to receive!"

"It's not as simple as that. I couldn't wrap it." Shelagh told him.

"Why not? Is it so very large?"

"No, it's not so very large. It's only about the size of a lemon."

"A lemon?" He looked puzzled. "It's the size of a lemon, but you can't wrap it." He considered for a moment. "Can you give me another hint? Where is it?"

"If I tell you where it is, you'll guess what it is!"

"Shelagh, you're not very good at giving hints."

"I know. That's why it took so long for us to find each other, remember?"

He pulled her on to his lap. "Oh, I remember, all right. How about I just unwrap you?"

"You're getting warmer…"

"I like this present." He nudged her chin up to give him access to her collar bone.

Shelagh whispered in his ear, "Patrick, we're going to have another baby."

"Mmmm. She'll sleep for a few more hours yet. We have all the time in the world."

"No, Patrick, you're not listening to me." She placed her hand on his jaw, and guided his eyes to hers. "I don't think you heard what I said. " She whispered her secret in his ear again.

Patrick stilled, then looked at her, puzzled. "You want to adopt another baby? So soon?"

"No, dearest."

"Then, I don't understand."

"Patrick, I'm pregnant," she told him.

Looking at his stunned face, she hurried on. "I knew something was different. I wasn't just tired from nights up with Angela. I've been queasy at different times of the day, and I've felt other symptoms, too. So I went into Town to see Mr. Horringer. He confirmed it, Patrick. I'm 14 weeks pregnant."

"You're pregnant? But-how?"

"The procedure seems to have removed enough scar tissue to make implantation possible. Oh, Patrick, he said that he was certain the baby had settled into my uterus. Dr. Horringer has every expectation that we'll have this baby." Shelagh's eyes glistened with tears.

Patrick couldn't move. Shelagh placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. "The baby is coming at the end of June. Angela will be 8 months old by then. I know it seems preposterous, but think how wonderful it will be. The two babies will grow up together. They'll be practically twins! And two isn't so much more than one. And Timothy can help, and by the time this baby comes, I'll be so much better at managing my time. And don't we tell Tim that love always grows to fill in where it needs to be? Oh, Patrick, please say you're glad." Exhausted, she buried her face in his shoulder.

Slowly, Patrick lifted his arms and held her tightly to him. She felt him start to shake and raised her head. Her eyes met his as he began to laugh. "Patrick?"

Finally catching his breath, he fell back on their bed, pulling her down with him. "Shelagh Turner, you have a gift for making me a very greedy man."

* * *

A/N: For the record, Shelagh must be suffering from placenta brain already. Two is a _hundred_ times more than one.


	2. Chapter 2: Heartbeats and Family Traits

Right? It could happen. I'm just saying'...

* * *

The Turner house was winding down for the night. Shelagh had gone up to bed with the baby, who now lay asleep in her cot, her little bottom pointed in the air. Downstairs, Patrick was puttering in his study. It was best for everyone if he packed his bag before the morning. It reduced the chaos.

Fresh from his bath, Timothy tapped on her door. "Mum? Sorry, but I need a signature."

Responding to her call, he opened the door and approached the bed. Shelagh was sitting up, her legs stretched out before her. She had hastily thrown a blanket over herself, and looked up, a mischievous expression on her face.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked, amazed.

Shelagh pulled her contraband out from under the blanket. "What are you doing with Dad's stethoscope?" Tim asked.

"Don't laugh. I was listening to the baby." Shelagh said sheepishly.

"I thought midwives used a pinard," he pointed out.

"Well, they do, in the usual course of events. However, I am not quite flexible enough to use one effectively at the moment. So, I borrowed this to try." She patted the edge of the bed, inviting him to sit beside her. "Would you like to listen?" she asked.

"Can you really hear the baby now?" Tim had seemed to adjust to the idea of another baby more easily than the rest of the family.

"Yes. It's simply a matter of knowing what to listen for. I'll have to raise my blouse a bit from my skirt, though."

"It's all right. I won't look," he assured his stepmother.

Pulling the blanket aside, Shelagh place the stethoscope against her belly, gliding it around until she found the heartbeat. "Here," she said, removing the earpiece and handing it to Timothy. "It will sound a bit like a train. Quick, like: whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. If you hear a slower beat, that will be my mine." He placed the earpiece in his own ears, holding his breath.

After a moment, he looked up at her, a smile wide on his face. "I hear it!" he whispered. He nodded his head in rhythm with his sibling's heartbeat for a time. Sitting up, he confided, "I'm glad Angela will have a little brother or sister."

"I'm glad you're glad. Why, though?"

"Well, I'll be going off to university in a few years-"

"Six years." The boy was growing up fast enough.

Well, I wouldn't want her to be lonely. She'll always have a playmate."

"And a sparring partner, if the stories are true," Shelagh grinned.

"Maybe." He paused. "But even if they fight, they'll still love each other. That's what families do."

"Yes. That's what families do," Shelagh repeated. She reached over and put her hand to his cheek for just a moment.

"I hope it's a girl, too." Timothy declared.

Shelagh laughed. "Why?"

"Well, you're rather pretty. And that's great for a girl. Angela looks like you and that works fine. I'm just not so sure that's what a boy should look like."

Timothy looked so serious, Shelagh had to struggle not to laugh again. "Thank you for the compliment you buried in there. But what makes you think the baby will look like me? Why not your father?"

"Oh, no. The baby won't look like Dad. Not at all."

"And how are you so sure if this?"

"Haven't you noticed? None of Dad's brothers children look like their father, and I don't look like Dad at all."

"I think you look a great deal like your father," Shelagh asserted.

"Nope. The colors are all wrong." Timothy was unshakeable.

"Your coloring is _different_, not _wrong_. It is true you have your mother's coloring, but I still contend that you look like your father."

Patrick, finished with his evening chores, stopped outside the bedroom door. He knew he shouldn't listen in, but the conversations his wife and son held when believed to be unobserved were some of the most amusing.

"How?" Timothy was not ready to be convinced.

"For starters, you have the same nose, and chin. You hair flops over your forehead just like his." She swept his hair to the side, just as Timothy rolled his eyes.

"And," she added, a gleam in her eye, "Your ears stick out a wee bit, just like his!"

With that, Patrick pushed the door open as he and his son said in unison," My ears _do not_ stick out!"

Laughing, Shelagh finished. "See! You're just like your dad!"


	3. Chapter 3:Love Will Always Grow

The floor of the sitting room soon became the center of the home. Armchairs had been moved to the edges of the room, and Patrick's ashtray table was exiled to his study. "You shouldn't smoke around the baby, anyway," Shelagh scolded him. Patrick grimaced, and moved furniture according to orders.

The big open space was now devoted to the chubby darling of the family. Angela had recently learned the joys of rolling herself around, and could cover the area far more quickly than her mother liked.

"Young lady, you are going to end up beneath that sofa one of these days!"

Shelagh found herself on the floor most days, minding both her daughter's progress and the shenanigans of her boys. Patrick and Timothy were in a battle royale for the title of "Chief Plaything." No position was too silly, no sound too undignified if it won a smile or laugh from Angela.

"Children," Shelagh chided. "Don't be so rough with her, Patrick. Timothy, you'll over-tire her."

One afternoon that spring, the doorbell rang. Neither Turner male moved, while Angela looked up at her mother. "Oh, I'll get it," Shelagh laughed, clumsily getting up.

She returned with Sister Julienne. Not given any warning of the identity visiting their home, Patrick was on all fours, the baby rolling through his legs. Looking up, he blushed. "Hello, Sister, sorry, I don't think I can get up just now. Tim, help your mother get some tea for Sister Julienne."

"You're only saying that because Angela is rolling over to me. Hello, Sister Julienne," Timothy added politely.

"Hello, everyone. No, you both stay as you are. I'll help with the tea. But be warned. When I return, It shall be my turn with Angela."

"Yes, Sister," they answered in unison.

Sister Julienne joined Shelagh in the kitchen.

"You're looking very well, my dear. How are you feeling?"

"Aside from a little tiredness, I feel very well. I'm enjoying this, now that the morning sickness is long gone. But I'm afraid I'm getting quite large. Patrick tells me it's because there's nowhere for the baby to go!"

"I'm certain he thinks you look lovely. No, let me," the nun insisted as Shelagh made to pick up the tea-tray.

"I'm afraid we'll have to have it in the kitchen, Sister. We've found that the combination of Angela and hot tea can be dangerous! Heaven knows what it will be like when she starts walking," Shelagh winced.

Settling in for a chat, Sister Julienne sipped her tea. "I've seen you at clinic, so I know your health is good. And your spirits certainly are high. Tell me, my dear, is everything as it seems?"

Shelagh smiled. "Yes. Everything is wonderful. Of course, if you come another time, I might give you an entirely different answer! Days where Angela is fussy, or Timothy's legs ache, when Patrick is out on calls and can't make it home."

A cheer came up from the next room. "She came to me! Ha hah!" crowed Timothy.

"That means you can get the nappy, son."

"No dice, Dad. You're her father."

Shelagh stood. "oh, give her to me. It's just a nappy! The two of you! _You_," looking at Patrick, "are up to your elbows in medical who-knows-what half the time, and _you_," looking at Timothy, "play with the most revolting concoctions of goo. Both of you act as if this little angel's nappies are the worst things you've ever seen."

Tim hung his head. "Well, they _are,_ Mum."

"They are pretty revolting, Shelagh, dear."

"Don't 'Shelagh, dear' me, Patrick Turner. I'll be back down in a jiffy, Sister. This will only take a moment."

"I'll join you. It will give me an excuse to carry this sweet angel up the stairs."

In the small nursery Angela had recently occupied, Sister Julienne asked, "Will you have the babies in here together?"

"I think so. Two cots will be a bit snug, but since we keep the toys downstairs, it should work. Sister, when I first discovered I was pregnant, I felt so very guilty." Shelagh looked at her dear friend. "We had only just brought Angela home. I worried that later, she would feel like she had been pushed out. That maybe I would love her differently from a baby that grew inside of me." There were tears in her eyes. "But now, I can't imagine how that could possibly happen. I love her so very much. And I look at Timothy, and I feel that same burst of feeling." Shelagh wiped a tear from her cheek. "God has been so very good to me. He has given me so much love in my life. I'm very grateful."

"You opened your heart to love, Shelagh, and love will always grow to fill in the space it needs."

"Shelagh!" Patrick called up the stairs. "Timothy and I want to take the baby for a walk. Where's her pink hat?"

* * *

I know my American is sneaking in. Sorry about that. ;)


	4. Chapter 4: Compromises

Arriving at Nonnatus House one day in late May, Patrick was surprised to see his wife and daughter coming out of the building alongside Sister Julienne.

"Patrick! Hello! I didn't expect to see you here this afternoon," Shelagh smiled.

"I'm supposed to be here. It's my weekly meeting. Did you walk all the way over here?" Patrick demanded, wearing his 'very concerned' face.

"Of course I did. You had the car," she joked.

"I thought we discussed this, Shelagh. If you'd like to come here, tell me. I'll arrange my schedule to drive you. I don't want you walking this far." Shelagh was only a month away from her due date, and she was doing too much, he thought.

Shelagh glanced at Sister Julienne, who was playing with the baby in the pram. "Patrick, I'm fine. We can talk about this at home," she added quietly.

He gave in for the moment. "Hello, Sister. I wanted to add a few patients to the calls list. Can you spare a moment?"

"Of course, Doctor. Shelagh, why don't you come inside and wait with the baby. I'll have Fred put the pram in his van and he can take it home for you after Dr. Turner drives you home."

"Yes, Sister," Shelagh conceded. Now they were both going to coddle her.

On the way home, Patrick was preoccupied. "I have a few calls to make, but I won't be home too late. Maybe even by dinner."

"Yes, dear." Shelagh knew his dinner would be warming in the oven long after she and Timothy had finished their meal.

"Shelagh, you're doing too much. Sister Julienne told me today that you insisted on handling the used book fair next week. I'm afraid I can't allow that." He pulled up on front of the house.

"Can't allow that?" Rarely angry, Shelagh could feel her blood start to simmer. "I am not a child for you to order about, Patrick. I am a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions, thank you very much. If I want to take our baby for a visit to an old friend, then I am very well going to do that."  
"Shelagh, calm down," he admonished. Somehow, years of working among strong-willed women had apparently not taught Patrick that _that_ was _precisely_ the wrong thing to say.

His wife's eyes widened angrily. "You have calls to make, Patrick." She opened the car door to make her exit a point, but was stymied by her own body. Climbing out of the car had become an almost impossible task without his help. Thwarted, she waited for him to come around the bonnet. She walked to the front door, stopping when she realized she would have to search for her key in her purse. Turning back to him, she held the baby out for him to take. Patrick tried very hard to hide his amusement. Shelagh's emotions were starting to get away from her with her pregnancy. Belatedly he realized that had handled this conversation badly.

"Here, let me," he said gently. He followed her into the house, and placed Angela in her playpen. Shelagh was still steaming when she came into the room behind him.

"Sweetheart, I'm just trying to keep you safe. You take on too many tasks. You already have enough to handle with us. I don't want you taking on too much. You body's been through so much in the last few years. You need to rest."

"I am perfectly capable of knowing my own body, Patrick. And my work load. It would be better if you changed your condescending tone with me. I am not one of your patients."

Patrick was stern. "Shelagh, Sister Julienne agrees with me. If I have to, I will have someone stay with you every day until this baby is born."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Patrick, I am _not_ the only woman in Poplar having a baby!" Frustrated, she turned and walked towards the kitchen.

"But you're the only woman having MY baby!" he retorted.

Shelagh stopped still. After a moment, she turned around and slowly walked back towards her husband. Standing together, they both knew the argument was over. She gave him a shy smile and toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat.

"I'd better be," she told him, coyly looking up into his eyes.

Patrick reached around her and pulled her close.

"Compromise?" he asked.

"All right. I'll tell Sister Julienne I can't arrange the used book fair."

"And?"

She let out a breath. "And I won't walk further than the shops. I'll ask for help from now on."

"That's better. And I promise not to smother you. Or be patronizing."

"All right. But Patrick?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"If you call me an elderly _primigravida_, just once, I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Deal."


	5. Chapter 5 Pains and Promises

_A/N: I am deep into A/U territory, now. With the type of surgery Shelagh had, it's pretty unlikely that she could deliver without a Caesarean section. But of course, in the land of fan fiction, that doesn't matter. _

"Dad, make sure you're back here by half past one. Mr. Hereford says the bus _has_ to leave on time, or we'll miss the exhibit," Timothy ordered.

"Yes, Tim. I'll be here," his father answered. Turning to Shelagh, he kissed his wife and daughter. "Are you sure you'll be all right? I don't like leaving you all alone this close to your time."

"I've got nearly two weeks, Patrick. Everything will be fine. Besides, I won't be alone, will I?" she cooed at her daughter. The baby laughed and pulled her mother's face, gumming at her chin.

"That is disgusting," Tim complained.

"It's not disgusting. She's just showing me how much she loves me," Shelagh laughed.

"She's showing you she's hungry."

"I'm off. Home at two o'clock, promise, Tim," Patrick called as he headed out the door.

Timothy shook his head in disgust. "He's so very funny. I'm going out to play, all right, Mum?"

"Yes, dear. Be careful with those new shoes. They might be slippery," Shelagh called, but he was already out the door.

"Well, my wee lass, it's just us now. How about you go in your playpen while I straighten up?" Shelagh placed the baby in her playpen and looked around the room. "Now, where to start? Oh!"

A stab of pain ran down Shelagh's back. Leaning on the armchair, she took deep breaths to get control of the pain. Lower back pain was nothing new to her. Being both mother to an eight month old and near the end of a pregnancy guaranteed that all too often. This pain would lessen, like the others.

The pains did not lessen, however, and Shelagh knew her time was coming. Judging from the signs, however, she had many hours ahead of her. Late stage labor wouldn't happen until well into the evening, plenty of time for Patrick to take Timothy to the museum with the Cubs. As soon as they left, she would call Sister Julienne. Meanwhile, there was much to do.

Coming down the stairs, Shelagh heard Timothy creep into the house. He had finally learned that a noisy Tim usually led to a noisy baby. Another spasm had just ended, and Shelagh was growing a bit concerned about the pain's location. She was going to need all of her powers of concentration, especially if she was going to keep this from Patrick. If he had any inkling that things had begun, he would never agree to leaving her, and Timothy would be dreadfully disappointed.

"Dad will be any minute," she told him quietly.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

The front door opened then and Patrick called out, "I told you I'd be on time!"

Shelagh closed her eyes, waiting for the cry that was coming. Well, at least the baby would distract her husband while she got them out the door, she thought.

"Sorry. I'll get her," Patrick apologized.

Soon, father and son were on their way to meet the bus and Shelagh was on the phone with Nonnatus House.

From the moment Shelagh had announced her surprize pregnancy, the midwives had jockeyed for the assignment. To avoid conflict, it had been decided that Sister Julienne was to come as Shelagh's support, and whichever midwife was on call would attend her. Somehow, Shelagh was not surprised when Sister Evangelina came up the stairs behind Sister Julienne.

"Water's broke? No? All right, then," the domineering nurse said, "Dr. Turner? The children?"

"Patrick took Timothy to the museum, they'll be back by dinner, and Angela is over at the neighbors." She stiffened, and closed her eyes in concentration.

"Contraction?" both sisters asked.

Not able to respond, Shelagh continued her deep breaths. The contraction went on for nearly a minute during which Sister Julienne massaged against Shelagh's lower back. As the pain lessened Shelagh straightened a bit. "I'm afraid the baby's OP," she told them. "I'll need help getting into proper position, as I can't hold it by myself. I've been mostly standing and leaning forward this morning, but no luck yet shifting the baby."

"Well, then, we'll just get you into a good position, and hold you up. No need to worry, dear, you'll be just fine. We've called Dr. Wilson to stop in and see you, just in case," assured Sister Julienne.

Looking around the bedroom, Sister Evangelina remarked, "I suppose I shouldn't be impressed, but this is quite possibly the best prepared room I've been in. Bed's set, delivery pack all sorted, I'd wager you've even given yourself an enema!"

"I thought it would be best to keep some mystery between us, Sister," Shelagh smiled.

The room became very quiet during the next few hours. The pressure of the baby against her spine created long, painful contractions. Shelagh used breathing and meditation techniques she had learned for quite another purpose to cope. Discussion became minimal, and the nuns took turns massaging Shelagh's back and supporting her in the positions that had helped other babies turn. This was not always a successful plan, some mothers were forced to be delivered with forceps, and some even by Caesarean section. They knew that with Shelagh's history, the chance of surgery was a definite possibility. Until her water broke, though, there was time to try.

The low growl of Patrick's car caused Shelagh to stir. "Patrick's home. Help me up on to the bed. I do not want him worried." Sister Evangelina stepped out of the room to deal with the father, while Sister Julienne helped to settle Shelagh.

Alerted by the two bicycles leaning up against the house, Patrick ran into the house, calling, "Shelagh?" He took the stairs two at a time and came to a halt in front of the nun. Before he had a chance to speak, she announced, "Everything is fine. Your wife has started her labour, doctor, and we have everything under control. Dr. Wilson has been to see her, and will return in another hour or so. No need to get upset."

"I want to see her," Patrick demanded, trying to push past the stalwart nun.

"Just for a moment. You're a father tonight, not a doctor." Sister Evangelina moved out of his way.

Shelagh laughed when she saw Patrick's face. "Dearest, all is well. Don't look so!" She was grateful that her next contraction was not due for a few minutes, at least.

Patrick sat on the edge of the bed. "When did this start? How far apart are the contractions? Have your waters broken? What did Wilson say?"

"Slow down, Patrick. I'm fine."

Sister Julienne stepped in. "We arrived early this afternoon, determined that her labour had in fact begun, and called in the doctor. The baby is in an occipital position, but we are making efforts to help the baby shift in position. Dr. Wilson is aware of the situation, and the hospital has been alerted to her possible admittance." She put her hand on Patrick's shoulder. "She is well and safe, Patrick."

Patrick only had eyes for his wife. "Shelagh, you knew and you let me go to the museum!" He was outraged.

"Patrick, dearest, you couldn't have done anything but worry. I called the Sisters, I was fine," his wife reassured him.

Ceding the point, Patrick begged, "Let me help. Let me do something."

"No, thank you," announced Sister Evangelina. "You are better downstairs, where you won't get in the way." She opened the door with dramatic effect.

"It's all right, dearest. Go down with Timothy, keep him company. Angela is next door, go bring her home. I've left dinner for you, and everything is ready for Angela downstairs. Nothing interesting is going to happen for a while yet," Shelagh reassured her husband. Patrick raised her hand to kiss it, then kissed her forehead. Then, he made to go.

"And no sitting on the steps outside the door, Doctor," Sister Evangelina ordered.

Quiet descended on the room again as Shelagh' s labour continued, until a sudden gasp from Shelagh. "The baby's moved," she whispered. Another gasp followed, and she fell against Sister Julienne.

"You're waters have gone, as well," announced Sister Evangelina. "Now we're cooking with grease!"

Shelagh was moved on to the bed and examined. "Not very dilated, I'm afraid, but the baby's coming down fast," Sister Evangelina told them. "I hope you've still got some in you, m'dear."

"I know," Shelagh answered. "'The fast ones hurt.' I wish I'd been a bit more sympathetic to my patients, " she laughed weakly.

An hour of contractions passed by with little change. Another pain started, and Shelagh tensed. As with the earlier stage, she was turned within herself, absorbing the pain. Now, however, she needed to relax into the pain.

Sister Julienne glanced at her sister. Without words, Sister Evangelina left the room to see Patrick.

Not surprisingly, he stood at the base of the stairs, cigarette in hand. "What's happening? I don't hear anything. Wilson should be back by now."

"She's all right, Doctor. But since the baby's turned and your wife entered active labour, she has been resisting the pain. I'm not quite sure why, but I think perhaps it has something to do with you down here."

"I'm not leaving, Sister," Patrick answered sharply.

"I didn't think you would, more's the pity. But you need to convince her that it is in her and the baby's best interests if she just let out a big holler once in a while. It's time for this baby to make an appearance."

Handing her his cigarette, Patrick moved past her on the stairs, but was stopped by the telephone.

"You go up, I'll see to it," she helped.

Patrick tapped on the door, then entered the room. "Shelagh? Sweetheart?"

"Come in, Patrick," Sister Julienne. Shelagh lay on her side, panting quietly.

Kneeling beside the bed, Patrick spoke, "Sweetheart, you've been so brave. You're the bravest person I know." He brushed back a lock of hair from her face. "But let us be brave, now. Go ahead and let the pain out, Shelagh. We can bear it, I promise," he joked.

Shelagh opened her eyes. "Where's the baby? Timothy?" she asked.

"Downstairs. Tim refused to go, but Chummy's come by and is keeping them both busy. We're fine, sweetheart. Now hold my hand and squeeze when it hurts."

"I love you so much, Patrick," she whispered. "I thank God every day for you and our family."

Patrick nodded. "You're our heart, Shelagh. You've made us all strong. Let us help."

Sister Evangelina came back into the room. "That was Dr. Wilson. He's stuck at a breech with Nurse Mount, and Dr. Bennett has already been called out on another case. I hate to say this, but it looks like you'll have to stay with us, Dr. Turner."

"I wasn't leaving, anyway. Sweetheart, I'll be here the whole time. But you have to promise to work with us. No more of this stoic Scots nonsense," he teased.

She nodded. "Go change your clothes, Patrick dear. That's my favorite tie. I would hate for it to be ruined tonight."

Of course, when Shelagh made her mind up to something, it was done. Poor Patrick soon regretted giving her his hand to squeeze. Still refusing to make much noise for fear of upsetting Timothy, Shelagh channelled her pains through her husband's right hand.

Sister Evangeline was impressed. "You're making quick work of it, now! I'm not sure who's in a bigger rush, you or the baby! Wait, wait. Hold on, little mother. You need to slow down for a moment. Don't want to tear."

"Pants, Shelagh. Little pants," coached Sister Julienne. "We don't want the baby coming too soon, my dear."

"Maybe you don't, but _I _do!" muttered Patrick. Sister Evangelina gave him a dark look. "Sorry, Sister. Slow down-ooph-that's right, squeeze my hand, sweetheart. Nice and slow now." He winced. "Little pants."

Shelagh started to laugh. "Stop. Patrick, stop. I can't-"she huffed, "pant-" huff, huff, "like I need to."

"Sorry, dear. Didn't mean to distract you from pulverizing my hand."

Sister Evangelina growled. "I can still banish you from this room, Doctor."

"Sorry, I'm not even here-ow!"

Attention shifted back to the baby. "Crowning now. Slow yourself down, my girl," Sister Evangelina coached. "Yes, yes, my girl. Just a few moments, little push, yes, that's it! The head is born!"

Shelagh's head fell back against Patrick's shoulder. Breathing heavily, she felt her strength slipping.

"All right, dear Shelagh," encouraged Sister Julienne. "Just a bit more. We need you to rally one last time. Then you'll have your sweet baby in your arms. I know you're tired, my dear. Just a bit more to go."

Sister Evangelina looked up at Patrick. "I swear, if you tell a single living soul what I am about to do, you will live to regret it."

Patrick looked confused. "Come here," she told him.

Understanding, he looked to his wife for permission. Shelagh released his hand, nodding, and he moved down to the end of the bed.

"Deliver your child, doctor."

Patrick felt his hands go cold and his mind went blank. Then, years of training kicked back in and he said, "Ready, sweetheart? The shoulders are about to come. Give me one really big push, now!"

Finally, Shelagh let out a deep groan which may have awakened the neighbors, and the baby was born.

His hands shaking, Patrick pulled his son from his wife and held him up to her.

"It's a boy. It's a boy, Shelagh." Laughing and crying at once, he placed the baby into her outstretched arms. Sister Julienne beamed, tears streaming down her face.

"Still work to be done, doctor. The cord?" reminded Sister Evangelina. No one was surprised when a moment later, she too had to wipe her eyes.

"Hello, little man. You needed some convincing to join us, didn't you?" Shelagh laughed. "You are so loved, baby boy." She looked up at her husband, who had abandoned his post as doctor. "I'm sorry about your hand, dearest."

Patrick wiped a tear his cheek. "It was completely worth it, my love. I've still got my left one."

* * *

I decided to make the wishful-thinking baby a boy rather than a girl in order to keep Angela the princess of the family. Could have gone either way, though. Now I just need a boy's name. But nothing will be as inspired as HTMG' s Angela.


	6. Chapter 6: Happy Family

It didn't take long for Baby Turner to make his presence known downstairs. Despite the late hour, Timothy was up playing a round of Snap with Chummy when he heard the baby's cry.

"Yes!" he cried out. "It's all over!" The last hours had been quite tense for Timothy. He jumped up and ran for the door.

"Not quite, Timothy Turner," Chummy informed him. "Actually, one could say it's all beginning! Oh, and 'Snap!'" she cheerfully informed him, taking the pair of jacks and putting them in her own pile.

"Wait. I was distracted!" Timothy did not like to lose.

Chummy's eyes widened. Boys really were easily distracted. She'd have to remember that when Freddie was older. It worked with Peter, too, she had noticed. "You've just gained a baby brother or sister. One should think one would be less concerned about a pair of knaves. Besides, there's still much to be done upstairs. You'll just have to 'hold your horses,' as the Lone Ranger would say. I'm quite sure your father will come for you just as soon as he can manage."

If Timothy thought the last few hours had passed slowly, the next hour lasted even longer. Impatient to be upstairs, he bounced on his feet at the end of the stairs waiting to be called. Finally, after years and years of waiting, he would later say, Sister Julienne came to the top of the stairs and beckoned him up to the room. "Go and meet the newest member of your family, my dear boy."

Sister Evangelina held the door open for him as he approached the room. Suddenly, he was nervous to go in. The Sister nodded her head to him. "Everything's right as rain. Come on in. Your parents want to introduce you to someone."

He stepped in to the dimly lit room. His father was on the bed, his mother resting against him. She looked tired, but not so _very_ different, all things considered. She looked up from the bundle in her arms and reached out to him. "Come here, Timothy dearest."

The baby squirmed in her arms, making the same sounds he remembered Angela making when they first brought her home. Timothy sat on the bed and reached out to touch the baby's feet.

He couldn't say anything. The baby's feet were tiny, and red, and looked so funny that he laughed.

Patrick smiled at his elder son. "It's a boy, son. You have a baby brother."

"A brother?" he smiled widely.

"Did you want a brother?" Shelagh asked.

"I don't remember. I just wanted the baby to be okay, I suppose. He's okay?" He looked up, worried.

"As perfect as you and your sister," his mother told him.

Sister Julienne returned with a sleepy Angela in her arms. Shelagh handed the new baby to her husband and took her girl in her arms.

"Careful, Shelagh," Patrick warned. "You can only hold her while you're sitting for now."

"I _am_ sitting, Patrick dear. Hello, my sweet angel." Tears came, not for the first time that night. "I missed you today. Were you a good girl?"

Angela laughed and kissed her mother, a wet sloppy kiss.

"I still think that's disgusting," Timothy told her.


End file.
